IN    MEMORY 


HELEN     STANFORD     TAYLOR 


Who,  in  her  eighteenth  year, 
passed  from  earthly  being  on 
the  evening  of  the  third  day 
of  June,  nineteen  hundred. 


BY  E.  R.  T. 


FIFTY  COPIES  PRINTED  AT  SAN  FRANCISCO  FOR  PRIVATE  CIRCULATION 
IN  THK  MONTH  OF  JULY  AND  YEAR  NINETEEN  HUNDRED 


Oh.  give  me  words  all  steeped  in  tears, 
And  heated  in  the  hottest  fire 

My  heart  has  known  in  all  its  years, 
To  body  forth  my  grief's  desire; 

To  speak  of  her  who  was  to  me 

A  vision  of  celestial  light, 
But  whom  I  can  no  longer  see 

No  matter  where  I  strain  my  sight. 


2073944 


I 

(AN  this  be  day?    The  sun 

is  up, 

/And  I  have  had  my  break- 
J    fast  cup; 
The  wagons  roll  along  the  street 
Where  men  go  by  with  hastening  feet; — 
Ah,  yes,  it  must  be  day. 

But  come  and  see  where  cold  she  lies, 
Death's  fingers  on  her  once-bright  eyes; 
With  pallid  lips  that  cannot  stir; 
The  aching  mother  bent  o'er  her; — 
Ah,  no,  it  is  not  day. 


II 


CANNOT  deem  that  she 

is  dead; 
I  cannot  think  that  she  has 

fled 
For  evermore  from  me; 


For  in  the  midst  of  nightly  things 
There  is  a  something  subtile  brings 
Her  form  again  to  me. 


Ill 

i  BIRD  of  strange  and  bril 
liant  hue 
With  powerless  wing  was 

fain  to  fly; 
But  as  my  heart  its  fate  did  rue, 
A  sudden  wind  from  out  the  sky 
Swept  it  far  up  until  it  seemed 
The    strength    had    come    its   soul    had 
dreamed. 


IV 

OW  bloomed  round  her  the 
flowers  of  nurturing  care, 
How  breathed  on  her  Home's 

kindliest  summer-air, 
How  softly  smooth  her  daily  paths  were 

made, 
From  that  sweet  moment  Life  first  gave 

her  breath 

Until  that  bitter  time  her  dear  head  laid 
Its  lilied  loveliness  in  lap  of  Death! 


8 


Y  heart  was  kept  with  fear 

astir 
Lest    lightest     harm    might 

come  to  her; 
My  lips  could  not  have  dared  to  speak 
One  word  to  pale  her  bloomy  cheek. 

But  now  my  fears  are  gathered  up 
In  grief's  exhaustless  wormwood-cup, 
And  though  I  spoke  in  loudest  tone 
Her  cheek  no  paler  hue  could  own* 


VI 


N  mystery's  face  I  did  but 

peer 
When  she  my  heart  with 

love  did  fill, 


And  yet  her  pulseless  beauty  here 
Breeds  mystery  which  is  greater  still. 


VII 

HOSE  dainty  fingers,  how 

they  swept 
The  keys  until    the  music 

leapt 

With  bounding,  heartsome  thrill; 
But  now  as  on  her  breast  they  lie, 
They  from  Death's  organ  wring  a  cry 
Than  polar  ice  more  chill. 


n 


VIII 

ROM   out  a  wood  where 

waters  ran 

As  only  joyful  waters  can, 
^  Where    flower     and     tree 


with  rapture  heard 
The  ecstacy  of  many  a  bird, 
And  in  the  air  was  such  a  lull 
That  everything  of  peace  seemed  full, 
I  sudden  came  upon  a  cave 
With  brooding  gloom  as  of  the  grave, 
And  peering  in  the  darksome  nave, 
Awe-struck  I  saw  upon  a  stone 
A  mother  bowed  in  grief  alone. 


J2 


IX 

H,  mournful  joy  to  call  to 

mind 
What     often     comes     at 

memory's  beck: 
To  see  around  each  other's  neck, 
Like  honeysuckles  intertwined, 
The  arms  of  mother  and  of  her 
Whom  Death  forbids  dear  Love  to  stir. 


J3 


MUSIC  fell  upon  mine  ear 
As  though  from  some  ce 
lestial  sphere, 
Then   sudden    ceased,  and 

discord's  clang 

Throughout  my  heart  remorseless  rang. 
Alas!  what  awful  woe 
In  human  heart  may  grow! — 
What  dreadful  thought  to  stab  a  man, 
That  Heaven  from  Hell  is  but  a  span! 


14 


XI 


[LONE    I    lay    on  desert 

sands, 

No  water  near  my  palsied 
hands, 

Above  me  vultures'  ravening  bills, 
And  in  my  heart  the  grief  that  kills. 

'Twas  but  a  dream,  as  well  you  say, 
And  as  a  dream,  has  passed  away; 
Then  let  us  kneel  beside  her  bier 
And  beg  the  faith  that  casts  out  fear. 


XII 


OW  far  Pve  come  since  I 

was  born 
To   be    thus    stricken    and 

forlorn; 

To  halt  beside  Life's  rugged  road 
And  pray  for  strength  to  bear  my  load. 


\6 


XIII 


|N    angel    met    me    in   the 

wood 
[And    led    me    where    her 

sister  stood; 
Then  each  one  kissed  me  on  the  cheek, 
But  not  a  word  did  either  speak. 
They  vanished,  but  I  knew  that  they 
Had  brought  me  flower  of  peace  that  day. 


XIV 


HE  fog  rolls  in  as  it  has  rolled 
For  years  that  never  can  be 

told, 
And  all  the  sky  is  dull  and 

gray 

As  in  the  far-off,  olden  day; 
And  hearts  still  ache 
Until  they  break, 
As  it  has  been  since  Death  held  sway. 

But  though  the  fog  be  deeper  rolled 
The  sun's  above  it  as  of  old; 
No  sky  can  be  so  dull  and  gray 
But  that  the  blue  will  have  its  way; 

And  hearts  will  wake 

For  love's  dear  sake, 
As  it  has  been  since  Life  held  sway. 


XV 

WOMAN,  great   of    form 

and  face, 
Who    seemed     to     be     of 

Sorrow's  race, 
Led  me  away  from  sun-bright  air, 
And  from  the  trees  and  blossoms  fair, 
To  lonely  depth  of  solemn  wood 
Where  but  the  sombre  cypress  stood. 

She  gently  breathed  a  wordless  prayer, 
Then  left  me  strangely  dreaming  there; 
And  when  I  waked,  a  newer  grace 
Was  round  me  as  with  love's  embrace, 
And  forth  I  went  in  heartened  mood 
Beneath  the  spell  of  chastening's  good. 


XVI 

HAT   note   is   this  which 

sweeps 

Along  the  mountain  steeps, 
Where    neither   grass  nor 

tree 
Nor  verdured  thing  can  be? 

'Tis  Life's  great  trumpet  blown 
By  lips  that  heroes  own: 
"The  death-strewn  Past  is  gone  — 
The  Present's  yours;  —  march  on!" 


20 


XVII 


HE  world  overflows  its  cup 

of  woe, 
Each  heart  has  felt  the  knife 

of  pain; 

But  I  would  have  my  soul  to  know 
That  all  is  best,  that  God  doth  reign. 


21 


O  Grief  that  is  darker  than  night! 
O  Sympathy  brighter  than  light! 
Mysterious  twins,  I  have  heard 
Your  awfullest,  soothingest  word. 


